For Right Now
by plzyouplz
Summary: While enduring the preparations for the upcoming wedding, Ginny discovers a side to herself she might like to explore.. at least for right now.


Although there was still the stale air of grief in the Burrow, after Dumbledore's funeral, days continued to drift past. Preparations for the wedding were underway even though it had only been two weeks since Ron and I took the Express home. I wanted no part in it. I felt uncomfortable within my own reality lately, like the air was crackling around me, and a wedding seemed almost too much to handle. It was a testament to Father Time, I suppose, and it did make me feel older and more mature – that one of my brothers was to be a husband.

Maybe that's what was creating this mercurial mood, just me settling into my womanhood. Or at least that's what Mum is trying to tell me. All of the older aunties say I am fortunate to have inherited the Prewett curves with the common Weasley slenderness and height. I knew I had been changing, it's not just come to my notice after all, but it came into stark focus just this past weekend when a group of Bill's friends, all a decade or more older than I, gave me more than appreciative glances. I had wandered downstairs when they all arrived noisily at almost midnight to 'kidnap' Bill and take him to his stag night. Ron had all but shoved Keiran out the door when he let his hug goodbye to me linger a little too long. He turned to me red-faced and whispered furiously, "Maybe you should have put on a robe, Gin, if you knew we had company", while glancing at my legs encased in cotton sleep shorts. My goodness, I was in a pair of Fred's old boxers and an old Quidditch jersey, not exactly Witch Weekly's lingerie pick of the month.

"I didn't know people would be coming over Ron. I was only in the kitchen for a glass of water; it was just as much of a surprise to me as it was to Bill. Thank you for making Keiran out he was starting to sniff me a bit – strange one, that," I muttered. I glanced up at Ron's face, which had returned to its normal shade of pale. He had matured too, but that was not new knowledge for me. I always studied Ron. He was closest in age to me, so I was looked to him before I reacted to any sort of situation. His features had become sharp, chiseled, but his jawline always seemed to be tensed like he had so much weighing on his shoulders, which I guess he did nowadays. I knew something big was happening for him, I just hoped he wouldn't be too reckless off gallivanting with the Golden Trio. The more I stared at him, the more questioning his gaze became. That night, when I sort of rushed him into a spontaneous hug, he constricted me extra tightly within his broad frame before releasing me.

It was now Wednesday and I had spent all morning and afternoon putting new sheets on all the beds, cots, and sofas within our walls. I was sixteen for fuck's sake, couldn't someone allowed to wield a wand have magicked those goddamned stupid fitted sheets on?!

Incensed, I stomped up to Ron's attic bedroom door, and performed the tap-tap-slap-slap that was their signature knock. He grunted, "Yeh!", so she swung open the door and declared, "I hate sheets! And I hate visitors! Weddings too".

"What's going on?"

"Since Charlie's friend, Steve, from the dragon reserve ended up coming with him, and the Welsh cousins are here early we don't have enough space, or the logistics or off, or there won't be enough kippers, whatever it is – Mum is going mad. Straight insane I tell you, like when Pig got into Crookshank's catnip"

Ron snorted at her, watching as she paused next to his bed and sunk to the floor, her head leaning against his mattress. He silently handed her a back issue of Quidditch Monthly and they both grinned at each other before the sound of turning pages filled his bedroom.

They were only able to enjoy the silence for half an hour, before their Mum barged in with an almost sheepish (for her) expression across her face.

"Ronald, Ginny, since we have so many people staying here", she said primly, "I have decided to put Mr and Mrs Delacour in your room, dear, since you have that double bed to yourself, and I'm sorry to say there's no other solution than for you two to share this room", she ended matter of factly.

"This room? You mean _my_ room?", Ron exclaimed.

"Yes, young man, _this_ room. The room under mine and your fathers' roof, so you best behave like it", Mum advised firmly.

"But, that's just not on. I mean I'm a bloke and all that or, whatever, bloody hell, I don't know."

"It's just for two nights. Why the Welsh cousins showed up _before_ their hotel reservations is beyond me."

I chimed in, "Yeah, c'mon, it'll be like when we used to build forts and tell each other scary stories after Mum and Dad went to sleep."

Ron just shrugged, nodded, and picked up his magazine before heading out the door and down the stairs.

Mum turned to me and said softly, "I _am_ sorry, Ginny. Your brother will get over it".

I smiled at her as she turned to walk out the door, and sat gingerly down on Ron's bed. Why was he so upset? War is looming, shouldn't we want to spend time together? Did he need to keep something secret from me? I could be truthful and say I was hurt that he seemed to thin sharing a bed with me was some sort of punishment, while I would be craving the comfort.

At supper, Ron was sat across from me at the magically lengthened dining table. He kept glancing at me, in between shoveling food into his math at an alarming rate, as usual. I creased my eyebrows, to silently question him, _What?_ , be he just blushed and turned back to his plate. I got lost in the conversation around me and tried to push my anxiousness and confusion aside.

I brought the end of the towel wrapped around me up to wipe the condensation off the mirror. The hot shower was almost magical in the way it restored me. As I spread my lotion across my skin, I wondered what nightclothes I should put on before heading up to the room at the top of the stairs. Shaking my head as if to clear it, I scoffed to myself; _this is Ron, he doesn't care what you wear for Circe's sake, why am I so nervous?_ I finished my nighttime routine and dashed into my room before the Delacours came up for the night to grab the first thing in my pajama drawer. I dash back into the bathroom, close the door, lock it with quickened breath and pull the plain pink nightgown over my head.

I take as long as possible to fold my used towel and hang it up before walking, step after step, until there are no steps left. Opening his door and peering around I see he is not even here. _There is no need for these butterflies!_

Seeing as her mother had used her as a glorified house-elf all day, Ginny climbed into Ron's bed without a second though even though it was only nine o'clock. As soon as she had made herself comfortable on the side by the window, Ron entered.

I propped myself up on the pillows, holding his quilt to my body, and said all I could think of, "Hi."

"Hey. Ummm, hi. Don't let me keep you up. I'm going to play Romanian Gobstones with Steve before showering and turning in" he rambled while gathering his pajamas, barely looking at me.

"Oh, alright then. Goodnight Ron".

He finally turned to me, rubbed the back of his neck and breathed out, "Night, Gin".

I felt wonderful. It was the kind of morning where your brain is aware you're awake before it informs your body. All you know is that you're perfectly comfortable. I was perfectly rested and comfortable. I snuggled my head into my pillow before tensing my body in preparation to stretch – and I froze. My eyes slammed open and realized my pillow was in fact the crux of my brother's neck and shoulder. The body I had tensed was tensed on top of his. Well, almost on top. I had slung my left arm and leg over him, but while my upper body was sandwiched between his arm, chest, and the mattress, my lower body was almost completely supported on his stomach. _This was probably why he didn't want to share his room with you, Ginny_ , I told myself sternly. But I couldn't escape the amazing feeling of comfortable tension. I glanced at his face and noticed his breathing was so deep he was just on the cusp of snoring. It was rather adorable. _How can he take all this weight and not wake up_ , I wondered. I shifted my hip and leg, meaning to maneuver it off of him, but when I shifted it was like I lit a flame to that tension that had accompanied my awakening. I became aware of the thing I had forgotten in my room in my haste to procure nightclothes and leave – knickers. My flesh was flush against one side of Ron's abdomen, and I was mysteriously slick. Ron had slipped into bed without a shirt while I was still asleep I guess. I panicked, thinking I had gotten my period in the middle of the night, and my heart started beating faster when thinking of Ron's possible reaction to waking and seeing his disgusting little sister had bled all over him. I slowly reached a hand in between our bodies and brought a finger to the wet, watching his face all the while. When I touched my bare (ever since I learned the expulso capillus charm from Luna- much more clean while fighting Mother Nature), I flinched because I was hot to the touch and there was a flash of pleasure. Bringing my hand up, level with Ron's chest below my eyes, I saw my hand was not stained with crimson like I believed. It was shiny and slick but somehow not so alarming. I still needed to find a way out of Ron's bed without waking him. I shifted my hips again with the goal of swinging my leg gently back over to my side, but then I couldn't stop shifting. Well, I was grinding. _Oh circe, what's happening, oh why does this feel so good._ A moan slipped from my lips and that halted my circling hips and woke me from my stupor. In a flash I had gotten both feet on the floor, stepped on the balls of my feet, like I was wearing high heeled slippers, and made my way onto the attic floor landing. I closed the door softly behind me. And I tried to forget how my insides clenched when I got a glimpse of a wet patch on the lower part of Ron's six-pack.

Thankfully, Ron and I had separate chores all day. I wished Hermione would get here already so I could have a girl to talk to –who isn't Fleur- to explain this tension. I knew it was sexual somehow just not how or what to do about it. I wanted more than anything to ask Ron but I felt somehow that would be crossing a line. _One things for sure, tonight I'll wear shorts_ …


End file.
